Chapter Five: The Masterpiece

Author's note:

1. aiet: east

2. deas: south

3. iar: west

4. tuath: north

5. nyu: spirit

Source: Celtic Magic - D.J. Conway (A great book. I highly recommend it.)

The spires of Hogwarts castle were lost in the early morning mist, and a soft dew still clung to the grass. Severus tapped idle fingers on crossed arms as he eyed his charge. Presently, she was sighing in absolute bliss as she curled her feet in the soft green shoots, her bare toes glistening with dew and slightly muddy around the nails. He hated to interrupt her little mewls of pleasure as she leaned back and smiled up at the sun, but the faster they made it to Hogwarts, the faster this mess would be sorted out.

There was, he had to admit, a sense of great satisfaction at seeing her healthy in body and mind so soon after he'd carried her wasted, insensible form out of Azkaban. She was still a bit weak, still needed some nourishing meals and exercise, but for the most part, Emily was back. Changed, yes, but not as much as he'd feared.

One thing had not changed in the slightest: Freedom suited her. If her father had seen that as clearly as he, then maybe... no. It was best to not dwell on what might have been. Too often, those imaginings resulted in clouded judgment and muddled thinking. Emily was what she was. What had happened had happened, and facing that was the only way to get past it.

"Are you quite finished, Miss Grey?"

She snorted a laugh. "Just give me a minute, Sev. This is paradise."

She ran both hands through her hair and gave her scalp a rather thorough scratching, fluffing the auburn locks into a tangled mess. Mab's heart, she looked like some feral creature just escaped from some exotic traveling show, not remotely beautiful, but fascinating nonetheless. Frowning, he stared at the bony arms that escaped the bounds of her too-loose robes. Give it time, he counseled himself. You've come further than you'd dared hope and you know it.

"I bought a perfectly serviceable pair of boots for you, madam, and that is hardly the proper way to employ them," he quipped, scowling down at the brown leather boots hanging by their laces from her shoulder.

"And, I thanked you for them," she shot back. "But they're not going on my feet until absolutely necessary."

He waved the comment away. "As you will, but we really must be on our way."

She rolled her eyes . "Are you so anxious to send me to my death?" she grumbled, struggling to keep pace with his long strides.

"We are not going to debate this again," he answered firmly. "I am more than capable of defending us both, should the need arise."

She shot him a sidelong glance. "Yeah. I noticed that."

Severus stopped walking and pivoted sharply on his heel, a deep frown etched into his handsome face. "What, precisely, are you saying?"

"Nothing, nothing," she protested, laughingly, hands lifted slightly in mock surrender. "You've just become so powerful." She paused, tried to look away, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable. "I'm... proud of you, Severus." He almost responded, parted his lips a bit, then realized that he had no idea what to say to that. "But, you can understand," she continued, "why I'd feel more comfortable with a wand of my own."

He arched a single eyebrow and gave her what she had always referred to as the look, then turned and continued on his way. "Well, I suppose you're simply going to have to trust me."

His ears barely caught her muttered reply of, "Not asking much, are you?" as she turned to follow him into the castle.

Severus glared venomously down at the stone floor of the entrance hall. It was huge, this circle of runic wizardry, almost covering the entire room. Only the dais where the house hourglasses rested and a few feet beyond were unaffected. Thankfully, the door leading to the dungeon stairway was clear as well, though just barely. One couldn't take more than a few steps into the room without activating the magic, and judging from the power resonating from the floor, that would be a very, very bad idea. The deadly graffiti was enormous, larger than any runic circle he'd ever seen, not that he had much experience in these matters. Albus had taken one look at it and cursed, had actually waxed profane at the sight of the massive glyph.

"Son of a bitch and sweet mother of Merlin!" came an awed whisper from his side. "Severus, it's beautiful!" Emily exclaimed, rushing forward and kneeling reverently at the outer edge.

Severus pursed his lips. "Only you would look at this catastrophe and see beauty."

She shot him an incredulous look over her shoulder. "Sev, this is unbelievable work, the work of a master. Voldemort has a genius in the ranks." Severus tilted his head forward meaningfully. "Other than you, I mean," she added.

Her gaze swept the room, taking in the entire circle. "This is the most amazing work I've ever seen! How long did you say it took?"

"One night," he answered promptly, "But we believe they employed a time-slowing spell. Lucius Malfoy has a gift for that one."

"I thought you said Lucius was in prison."

"He was... for three days." Emily scowled over her shoulder as he continued. "He bought his freedom in much the same way he bought his wife."

Though you were the one he wanted, Severus thought bitterly. Lucius had an unholy obsession with breaking strong people, and he had hungered to bend Emily to his will from the first moment he'd met her. Her rebellion against her father's will had spared her that, at least. Though who would've broken whom was anyone's guess. Emily was the only person he'd ever known to consistently come out on top where Malfoy was concerned.

That all changed when she'd joined the Death Eaters, though. Lucius outranked them both on countless levels. He was the most favored of the Dark Lord, and as such, anyone who displeased him felt his wrath. Punishing the insubordinate had been his main duty, and Emily, never one to obey orders unfailingly, often found herself on the wrong end of his wand.

How many times had Severus lay awake at night listening to her screams in his head as he reviewed the images of her writhing at Malfoy's feet? He sighed inwardly. The real question was, what was he going to do to keep it from happening again? The Death Eaters would be very interested to know that she was out of Azkaban and almost completely restored. She had escaped by the skin of her teeth the last time she refused to obey the Dark Lord, and Lucius had been furious. Hence, the joy he took at torturing her father to death. Severus and Lucius and a few others had been ordered to finish off the rest of the family, Emily and Eric, that very night, but the Order was tipped off by their spy and arrived first.

That was when the world had shifted rather out of focus for Severus. Just when he'd thought that Emily was coming around, was showing some degree of humanity again, the Order had found her crouched on the floor of the main entrance to her home beside a blood-splattered runic circle, the pieces of her brother scattered throughout the entrance and all over her. She had been arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced to life in Azkaban within a matter of days.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself back to the present. This was really no time to relive the travesties of the past with such a large one looming in front of them. Better that they both concentrate on removing this obstacle. He'd worry about keeping Emily from the Death Eaters later.

Emily was up and pacing the edge of the monstrosity at present, shaking her head in wonder. "It's a masterpiece," she breathed.

"It's a masterpiece which could bring this castle down on our heads," Severus snapped.

"Ooohh... Somebody's grumpy, today," she chuckled. A singular look got her moving again, studying the symbols in earnest. Snape could only hope that her mind was as mended as it seemed. Who knew whether they would be able to make it to the library, and Albus didn't want them leaving in case Voldemort's army decided to return. Hopefully, she could do this without reference materials. Years ago, he wouldn't have doubted her. Despite her acting like a complete buffoon and her lack of common sense, her basic intelligence rivaled his own and when she applied it, there was not much she couldn't accomplish.

Her gaze wandered to the ceiling now, and he could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. "Sev," she called absently, obviously preoccupied. "Do a little wand-waving and find out how high the sphere of influence is."

"The Headmaster has done so already," he replied, greatly relieved that she was finally working. "It reaches a few feet above the floor, no more."

She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. "Do you think you could levitate me up to that chandelier? I'm too short to get a good view of the other side."

"I think I can manage that. Just don't move." He drew his wand and leveled it.

"No!" she shouted holding out a warning hand. "Slow down. I need a scroll and a quill."

He supplied them immediately from his own bag.

"What about ink?"

"It's perpetual," he responded casually.

She looked down at the instrument with new respect. "A perpetually-filled quill," she mused. "Nice. I don't suppose it'll write while I dictate?"

"It's never done so for me," he returned, "But perhaps if you ask it nicely. You were always the charming one."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, that's funny, Sev."

"Unintentionally, I assure you," he replied impatiently. "Are you prepared to work, now?"

Soon, she was settled on a thick, iron appendage of the enormous fixture and scribbling fiercely. Severus gave a small, quick smile to see her feet swinging merrily as she worked. How many times had she unintentionally kicked him under the desk while they studied because she couldn't keep still for long periods?

"I'm going to see to our things," he called up, heading for the dungeons.

"No!"

He stopped and turned with an irritated sigh.

"Don't leave me in here with this thing without a wand," she shouted. "Have you lost your mind? What if I drop something?"

"I suggest you don't," he called over his shoulder, already moving again.

"Sev, please don't leave me."

He froze. It was the 'please' that did it, the way it trembled past her lips like a prayer.

"Liri," he called resolutely. The house elf appeared in an instant, bowing low. "Take these things to my chambers in the dungeon." The elf gave a quick snap of his fingers and the luggage vanished. Severus gave a subtle shake of his head. Wizards could take lessons in humility by watching house-elves dispatch their masters' requests without any visible effort. Truly, they were the most powerful of all the magical creatures. It was a relief that Liri had come along. The other house-elves had been forced to leave for their own safety by Dumbledore, and the help was much needed.

"Have you found the kitchen to be in working order, Liri?"

"Yes, master. Liri is finding it very suitable to his requirements."

Severus smirked. Liri had been almost completely silent, still mourning the passing of his mistress, when Snape had purchased the smallish manor outside of Hogsmeade. Snape had made the mistake of scolding him for his lack of verbal response to his commands, and he'd responded by avidly adopting the potion master's vocabulary. Consequently, he'd become the most well-spoken house elf he'd ever known.

"Thank you, Liri. That will be all."

The little elf vanished before he rose from his deep bow.

"Perhaps, I could join you," Severus called from the floor. "I am quite capable of taking dictation while you study the circle."

"Come on up, then," she called back, and he readily complied.

Any action was preferable to standing around while she took notes. At least this way he'd know what she thought of what she was seeing.

Once settled, he looked down at the floor and inhaled sharply at the view. He had to admit what Emily had already stated. The work was beautiful, a complex web of interwoven symbols broken into distinct sections within an encircled pentacle. Some of the larger runes in the center were bound up in Knot Work reminiscent of the ancient Celts. It was, indeed, breathtaking.

Emily was already talking and he had to backtrack his subconscious to remember what he had heard while he'd admired the work.

"I don't know who did it," he answered at last. "None of the Death Eaters, even Voldemort's elite could manage this kind of work. You and Dumbledore are the only ones I know who could manage it. Perhaps Professor Corrigan, the Ancient Runes instructor, but she's been missing since the night of the incident. We assume she's dead."

She shook her head. "Just Albus and your professor, then. I'm pretty sure I can reverse this, but there's no way in Hades I could've managed to cast it. It's over my head." She indicated the point closest to the stairs at the back of the room. "See the runes inside the edge of each of the points of the pentacle?" He nodded. "Those are seals. You'll notice that the runes are fairly similar around each point: aiet, deas, iar, tuath, and nyu? Each point is a key, meaning we'll have to disable the runic circles relative to each point, somewhere in this castle, before we can even consider this big one. Albus was right. Voldemort wanted this to take time. That's probably why he killed your Runes instructor, to keep Albus busy and disable the Order. But look in the center. You see, just before each point begins, the arched knot? That's called the Portcullis; that's the tricky part."

She swore softly. "I could really use a wand."

"It's out of the question," he answered shortly, not even looking in her direction. "Please continue."

There was a moment of silence, then, "You don't trust me, do you, Sev?"

He ground his teeth. Why had she never developed any of her father's tact? She was more direct - blunt, actually - than any other noble would dream of being. Or, perhaps he simply didn't care for the question itself.

"I haven't much reason to," he answered at last.

"You have every reason," she argued. "If someone can't be trusted here, it's you."

"I've played nursemaid to you for a week..."

"For the sake of your own agenda," she interrupted testily.

He gave himself a moment to bite back the sadistic comment on the tip of his tongue. "Think what you will, Miss Grey. It's hardly my concern. Now, what, precisely, is the 'tricky' part?"

Lady Jenilyn: Oh, I'm so relieved that you're not gone! By the way, I'm sorry about that abortive attempt at an e-mail. I was fairly inebriated; so much so, in fact, that (according to the Loaf) I squealed and hugged the computer screen when I saw that you hadn't gone. As for the "hot-babe" babe potion, that's going to have to be a negative. I'm sure it would only complicate matters anyway. She's coming along, though. She won't be a skeletette forever. These things take time. I was most relieved to hear that you like my version of Dumbledore. He's not going to be very popular, I can tell, and I know that he's being ridiculously unreasonable, but there's a good reason for that on the way. The rune thing, I hope, will become more clear as the story progresses, (hopefully, this chapter clarified a little bit) but you seem to have the basic idea. I love the idea of Ronnikins getting his leg blown off, but I don't see involving him in this story at all. Sorry. I have to give big, fat shrug as to what's up with 200 people reading your story and no one reviewing. That's just tacky to not express one's approval of good writing. Sorry about that, Jenilyn. People can be major jerks. One of the million reasons I love knowing that you're out there. Thanks. (Passes Jen a cup of mint tea)

Intel Ewok: Hi! You're so right. That is Severus for you. Especially, playing head games to determine someone's true loyalties. I'm so happy that you approve. This has been much more challenging than the Alex stories because Severus is so hard to peg as a relatively good guy. It's a relief to know that he's reading well. There's also a huge sigh when I read that Emily is an interesting OC. Truth be told, I wasn't too fond of her when I first started writing this story. I was just interested in exploring the premise, but she's definitely growing on me. You know, the night after I read your review, I had a very lucid dream that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were outside the door listening to the conversation between Sev and Emily. I woke up laughing at the incredulous looks they passed back and forth. It was the grooviest dream I've had in a while, so thanks. (Passes a muffin to Intel)

Captain Oblivious: Hi! Thanks for dropping by. Have a drink, a seat, and a muffin. It's good to see a new face. Wow! Spectacular! Thanks so much! Have another muffin. I'm blushing violently over here. I should have specified (totally my bad) that this story takes place after OOTP, so Sirius has bitten the big one... which is a real shame. It would be fun to put those two in the same room and watch the sparks fly. I can assure you a run-in with Remus... and a picture of his nastier side. That one word you used to describe her relationship with Severus (i.e. unique) has taken a load off of my mind. If there's one thing I strive to do, it's make sure that my stories aren't ripped off from everyone else's. Otherwise, what's the point? You're right about Azkaban. I can't imagine anyone coming out of there without some serious psychological trauma. Emily is lucky to have a potions master in charge of her recovery, or it would take a long, long time to see results. Thanks for the review, Captain O. I appreciate it.